


Withdrawals, Weed and Lessons in Moving on

by terracotta_heartbreak



Category: American Idiot - Green Day/Armstrong
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, F/M, M/M, Past Drug Use, Past Violence, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-26 21:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13866699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terracotta_heartbreak/pseuds/terracotta_heartbreak
Summary: With his friends back in town, Will finally decides to walk the path of maturity, and starts the long, winding journey into his life again.





	Withdrawals, Weed and Lessons in Moving on

Ever since Johnny and Tunny had come home, Will found himself fumbling through the letters again, to the point where it was borderlining obsession. Savouring each and every word in his brain, he would sit for hours with a cup of coffee, fascinated by each phrase scribbled onto the well thumbed, beer stained pages, he would try and piece together things Johnny hadn't told him, because there was a lot of that. Will couldn't help but wince occasionally at the ever-present odour of beer that came off the paper, because it reminded him so painfully of where he had been little over a week ago. Sometimes he'd practically fall victim to it - the beer - and would have to clench his fists, take some deep breaths and write around in pain for a while to try and calm the cravings, but other days, things were a bit better.

Sobriety was weird, and to tell the truth, Will couldn't easily remember a time where he hadn't been drunk. Probably a bad thing really, considering how young he was, even now. But in a way, it was both refreshing and hellish to give up the drink. Physically, it was freeing, and for the first time in years, Will had felt some kind of inkling to get outside, to breathe real air and relax, and it felt good, he supposed. Life was changing, in the most dramatic, harsh way possible, but maybe for the better.

All of a sudden, the time would fly by, and Will realised, catching eye of the date on his calendar, that his friends had been home for three months now, even though it’s felt like a matter of days in his head. But then, time spent looking after a developing baby, practicing for the band they were forming and trying to live a functional life was time that often flew by.

The band had been Will’s favourite thing, as of late, because of how it came together. It’d been Johnny’s idea, because Johnny’d had so much muse for his songs lately, and Will, having hit sobriety, had caught his creative bug too. So the trio had decided to get together and make something out of their pain and anger and dynamic, and it was working out better than he’d hoped.

Tunny was their drummer. Maybe it was how angry and good with his hands he was, or that it had always been his instrument of choice, but Tunny was the drummer. And besides, Tunny drumming had additional perks, like how he didn’t have to stand up on his prosthetic leg for too long to garner energy, but could still use it and feel in the mood. And how Tunny wasn’t as creative and spirited as Johnny or Will, not exactly someone who wrote as much or wanted to stay at the front of the stage.

Johnny was on bass. It seemed, as Will had noticed, he’d lost a lot of confidence in the city and preferred to have less eyes on his fingers, which were still a bit numb and weary from his drug addiction.

Will took on the guitar role. Sure, he wasn’t much more confident than Johnny, but he’d spent a lot of time practicing and had always been musically inclined, not exactly more than his friends, but it was certainly a big part of him. He sang a lot too, although Johnny did do a few of his personal songs, though it was dubious as to how happy Will was about it, seeing as he’d never been confident in his talents. 

It wasn’t much, but it was theirs.

Their first and gig was strange, opening for Heather’s boyfriend’s band. Will hadn’t been keen on the idea originally, but it was better than nothing, and he’d soon grown to find out that Miguel was actually a pretty decent guy.

“Hey, you guys rock, surprised you lot didn’t form this thing back in high school when you still had the chance,” Heather had muttered as they joined her at a table to watch Miguel. 

Will, already rolling himself a joint, had just smiled at her, rolling his eyes a little as he began to smoke, cooling the nerves he’d felt from playing to people for the first time in years. “Maybe we just didn’t have inspiration,”

”Yeah,” Johnny had muttered, leaning over, ruffling Will’s hair, kissing him on the cheek and throwing an arm round him. “Writing is a lot easier when you’re fucked up and off ya’ head,”

”Or when you have some experience, you mean?” Tunny chimed in, giving a disapproving look to the weed Will was now smoking.

”Yeah- true- what could you lot’ve written about? Being bored? Weed?”

Heather shot Will a joking look, and he melted under it, beginning to giggle, arm in arm with both his best friends momentarily forgetting they’d had to walk the longest, loneliest roads to finally get here.


End file.
